Screw Canon

Terra had just left for another year at Hogwarts. This had left Silver alone with nothing to do for quite some time. What was she to do whilst her brother was at school learning cool new tricks, and she was here doing paperwork and twiddling her thumbs.

She could always hit up the gym again today, but she has already done her workout for the day! Silver's eyes drifted toward her desk bereft of any work needing to be done. She was going to lose her goddamn if she sat here any longer. She doesn't get to start school until next year, which would be the same year that Harry—

"Holy Shit." Silver muttered with wide eyes. Harry doesn't have any friends or companions at this time. Guilt began to eat her alive. Her head started spinning; a heavy weight slammed down her shoulders; bile arose from her stomach to her throat that she barely kept down from spilling everywhere; and an unexplainable fire burned away at her heart.

Why had she forgotten? Out of everything that she was focusing on in order to save and protect the underdogs, she forgot one of the main objectives she wanted to complete: save and befriend Harry freaking Potter. The one person who influences the plot the most? Yeah, him.

Silver couldn't help but slam her head against her desk in irritation. She double-checked her planner and made sure her schedule was clear before she got ready to leave. Welp, at least she knows what she's doing for the next several months.

Boredom begone.

Dressed in a pair of combat boots, dark jeans, Guns 'N Roses t-shirt, and a dark brown leather jacket, Silver stepped out of a Gateway (bastardized sling portal) in a deserted alleyway near Little Winging, Surrey. Hiking a shoulder bag higher up her shoulder, the ten-year-old clicked a button on a slim, metal cuff bracelet that closed the portal behind her. The wind tousled her scarlet hair that she left mostly down except for the top half of hair that she kept in a ponytail so that the tips of her ears were concealed from the view of others. To anyone else, Silver looked like a normal human girl dressed in pants.

She strolled along the paths and sidewalks until she arrived at a park to a very telling scene. As it was the weekend, many children were running about and playing on this playground. However, that didn't stop the obvious bullying.

(That's so obviously abuse. Why are they lying to themselves?)

A fat, obese young boy with his three friends against an emaciated, smaller than he should be, black haired boy with broken glasses. Before the fat one—Dudley, no doubt—could land another hit, Silver stepped closer to the group of boys and called out.

"This is an unexpected encounter." It was plain and should have gotten the boys' attention; however, it was not to be. She was working with idiots. The black-haired boy did notice that she was there and was hoping deep down in his broken, defeated heart that the girl was there to help him.

"Well, this is a level of incompetence I've never seen before." She sighed as she caught the massive fist of one Dudley Dursley. What the young girl had said was not what caught the bully's attention. It was the fact that a waif of a girl had caught 'Big D's' fist.

"This ain't none of your business, so scram!" Dudley tried intimidating her, but his little piggy glare was doing nothing to her. Unless one counted the strong urge to slam her fist into his face until his nose broke, them possibly.

"I was really hoping I wouldn't have to do this today." She mumbled to herself. Twisting the boy's fist so that he lost control of the limb, Silver forced his arm into a chicken wing position so that she had control over him. While she was behind him, she kicked at his knees and forced him to the ground where she dug her own knee into his back. Her other heel ground itself in the back of one of his knees to prevent usage of it while pushing her weight more into his spine. Dudley's arm remained in its uncomfortable position as Silver pushed it higher up his back until he feared she was going to break it so much that he began to beg.

The boys that were with Dudley took a step back before deciding that whatever it was that kept them at Dudley's side wasn't enough for them to stay. They took off without another moment to spare—abandoning their buddy for safety.

"Let me go! Let me go! Let me go! Ow! That hurts! Stop!" He continued to blubber on; fat tears rolled down his cheeks; and the sour sent of ammonia filled the vicinity.

Silver dug her knee further into his back, eliciting a whine from him. "If I let you go, will you leave this boy alone?" She asked—threatened.

"Yes, yes! I promise, I promise!" With that, she let him go; but, not without whispering one last thing into his ear, "I will hold you to your word." Skedaddled away, he did. Crying to his mummy, he will. Give two shits, she does not.

Harry was preparing to leave when the red-haired girl kneeled down in front of his form on the ground. The confusion on his face made her heart ache, but none so much as that look of caution that passed over his face for the briefest of moments. Pursing her lips, she began pulling some bandages, hydrogen peroxide, and cue-tips out of her bag as his eyes tracked her every movement carefully.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. I'm just going to patch you up. Is that okay?" Her question received a nod in response. She rubbed hand sanitizer all over her hands and forearms to disinfect before pulling a pair of medical gloves onto her hands.

"Where does it hurt?" Harry pointed to his face where she saw the makings of a black eye. It was already dark and heavily bruised; the eye had swollen to the point of preventing the child from opening it; an imprint was made from his glasses; and a cut from the broken glass oozed a thick, greenish-yellow puss that slowly dripped down the side of his face. She tried her best to hide the grimace so that way he wouldn't be to put off and have self-esteem issues get in the way of her helping him.

She tended to all of his other cuts first by dipping a cue-tip into the hydrogen peroxide and gently dabbing it to the open wounds. Then, she would watch the solution bubble along and kill all the bacteria. Sometimes she would need to do this process a few times with the same wound, but she wanted to make sure that they were properly cleaned before adding some Neosporin and then bandages. At last, she got to the point where the black eye was the only wound left to tend to.

Silver put the hydrogen peroxide back into her bag and traded it for a small bottle of iodine, a sewing needle, a lighter, and a clean cloth to place these all down on. Instructing Harry to lie down and relax, she took off her jacket and folded it to make a pillow for him to rest his head on.

"I'm going to need you to relax," she told him gently. Her fingers worked swiftly as they flicked the flint of the lighter and heated up the needle for disinfecting after having wiped said needle with an alcohol wipe.

"…Who are you?" Harry slowly asked her. He seemed to beat himself up internally for asking the question, and before he could apologize, she was already answering.

"My name is Silver," she said gently as she very carefully removed the remains of his glasses from his face. She made sure to disinfect the area of Harry's swollen eye, cleaned her hands again, and placed a new pair of gloves on. Spurred on by the kind answer, Harry decided he wanted to keep whatever this conversation was going—if only to distract him while she brought that needle ever closer to his face.

"Like your eyes?"

"Like my eyes." The needle punctured the tender skin, and he hissed in pain while his body recoiled away from the needle. Silver pulled the needle out and set it down while more of the sickly green-yellow puss oozed out of the new opening. She squeezed out all the puss that she could while whispering praises and sweet words of comfort to Harry. His whimpers did nothing to soothe her raising wrath against the Dursleys. They had harmed a child—an innocent soul—and her anger burned like a raging fire deep against her chest. Whilst she was tending to him, she was at war with herself. Biblically, she should not be so quick to anger; contrarily, this was an innocent young child who had been intentionally hurt for no reason other than his tormentor's enjoyment. "Be not hasty in your spirit to be angry, for anger rests in the bosom of fools."

"What is your name, friend?" Her attempts at distracting him weren't as successful as she would like, but it seemed to help—even if a little bit.

"H-harry."

"That's a nice name." She told him jovially. The young girl tried to keep the light-hearted conversation going as best she could while she treated him.

"You think so? My Aunt says it's a nasty, common name. I like yours, it's unique." Harry told her. Glimmering silver eyes met bright green ones as the owner of the paler color paused in her work.

"Really? Thank you, Harry. I rather like the commonness of your name, myself. Sometimes unique names are not all that they are cracked up to be." Silver said with a small chuckle. Harry himself let out a laugh at the thought. His own cousin's name was a testament to that statement. He hissed again when Silver pressed a touch to hard near his lower eyelid.

Draining the infected area of all the puss that she could took a while, but the swelling had reduced by half because of it. She took out a bottle of eyedrops that is used to help eliminate bacterial infections of the eye and very slowly pried Harry's eye opened so that she could drop a few droplets on his eye. The cool temperature of the solution was shocking to the heat of his skin as his body was doing the best that it could against this infection.

Silver was no medical professional, but she was pretty damn sure that was a staph infection of some kind based on the color of the puss alone. The green tinge made her assume a staph infection of the viral kind but seeing as it still had a more dominating yellow color, she was hoping it was bacterial. Bacterial infections were easier to take care of compared to viral infections.

After some time of letting Harry relax on the ground, Silver raked her fingers through his hair in effort to relax him further. He had flinched from the contact at first, but he relaxed as soon as he realized she wasn't going to hurt him—even though she had already helped him once.

"Why are you helping me?" Harry questioned. His eyes were opened and watching Silver's expression while she looked upon him with her glittering eyes.

"Children are precious things, Harry. Anyone who says otherwise shouldn't be taking care of them in the first place." She gave him a meaningful look as she said the end. Harry couldn't help wonder how she knew. No one else of Privet Drive seemed to even realize what was happening to him.

Silver continued to speak regardless. "Your maltreatment is quite obvious. That black eye of yours has been there for days at least and was never treated and it shows."

"No one helps me."

"Not even your friends?" She knew he didn't have any, but she still had to ask. Harry didn't answer her at first. His chin tucked into his chest while he tried to avoid looking at the pretty red head next to him.

"I don't have any. I have no one." The pain that radiated from his voice sent that familiar feeling of sorrow racing through, straight to her heart. It felt much like someone had stabbed her with a hot blade and the wound was as ice-cold as it was burning. Silver felt the blood rush up her neck to her ears and beyond to the point where all she could hear was the beating of her heart.

She knew he had no one―a least not in the sense where it truly mattered―she knew, but that didn't make it hurt any less than it did. A surge of conviction trailed its way up her spine as determination sat firm in her irises.

"Then I will be your friend." Her voice was strong and carried with it the weight of her promise. Harry couldn't help the widening of his eyes. His breath began to come in with uneven patterns. He could feel the very weight of her promise and by every power on this Earth he wanted to believe her; but still, he doubted. Harry couldn't let his hopes get up again. Not after so many adults had failed him in the past.

"You promise?" He couldn't help but ask in a small voice.

"I'll do you one better," She said, "I'll be your sister if you want. I'll be your family." With those words, the scarred boy let his tears fall. The silver-eyed girl swiftly took him into her arms and firmly held him to her. Harry went stiff when this happened. He's seen people do this before, but he has never had this happen to him.

A hug. She was hugging him. It felt nice, like warm spring day. Where the sun's rays blanket you in its warmth while the gentle breeze keeps you cool. Her warmth seeped through his threadbare clothing and warmed his very soul. He felt something that he didn't know was shattered slowly mend itself back together. Was this what home felt like? Was this what it felt like to be cared for: to be cared about? Harry didn't have the answers to those questions yet; however, he did know that where he was living with his Aunt was―in fact―not home. It never was and it never will be.

'Wherever Silver is…that is where home is.' He decided.

With that very thought, a faint feeling of something breaking swept through him. This time, though, it was a good thing.

He just felt free.

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